


Dwell In My Desires

by onlytheshortones



Category: Sports Night
Genre: Drunk Sex, First Time, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:44:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5302667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlytheshortones/pseuds/onlytheshortones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>11/23/1993.<br/>"That night in Minneapolis with the Jägermeister."<br/>When Dan and Casey did things that were untoward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dwell In My Desires

**Author's Note:**

> "We didn't do anything untoward, did we?"  
> "You mean did we get married?"  
> "Yeah."  
> "No."
> 
> A late celebration of Thespis Day/Dan and Casey's anniversary (22 years). Because certain questions never got straight answers.
> 
> Title is another reference to the St. Crispin's Day speech.

Jägermeister makes Casey a little bit gay. He knows that, he’s known that since his junior year abroad in Germany, when he first made the acquaintance of the beverage, and of Hans. Oh, Hans.

Jägermeister makes Casey a little bit gay, and he is well aware of that, and Hans notwithstanding, Casey is mostly straight and totally married, so what’s he doing ordering Jägermeister in the hotel bar of a Radisson in St. Paul with Danny?

He’s celebrating, that’s all. _They’re_ celebrating. And they have every reason to—they’ve finished their first broadcast, it went incredibly, and tomorrow they get to fly back to Dallas and do it all over again in the studio. It’s even snowing outside. They’re on top of the damn world tonight. It’s worth celebrating. With shots of Jägermeister. Because fuck it. Fuck Lisa. Fuck everything.

Casey knocks back his shot without saying anything. Dan watches him, then, after a moment, does the same.

“We did it, Case,” he says, gesturing for two more shots.

Casey nods. “Yeah.” They did it. They absolutely did it. And he should be enjoying it. He should be _able_ to enjoy it.

Their shots come, and Casey downs the second quickly. “Yeah,” he says again, shaking his head a little to clear it.

“Come on, man,” Dan says. “I know it’s not network or anything, but you’ve gotta be at least a little proud.”

“I am,” Casey says, maybe a little too quickly. It sounds defensive when he hears it. He _is_ proud. He just…wishes he could be more proud. Wishes he didn’t have to apologize for being proud. Wishes he hadn’t called Lisa at all tonight.

Dan’s quiet for a moment, contemplating his empty shot glass. He opens his mouth, then closes it. Casey knows what’s coming.

“I know it’s not Late Night—” Dan begins, but Casey is ready.

“Danny, come on.” He doesn’t want to have this conversation for a second time tonight. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore at all, really. What he wants is to get drunk. To get drunk and celebrate the show, because he’s pretty sure that’s all he has left to celebrate.  

But Dan doesn’t seem to want that. Dan wants to talk. Dan wants to push and pry, like he always does. Dan wants to _know_ him.

“I mean, is that why you’re so testy?” he asks.

Casey shakes his head. He’s so not _testy_. “Late Night was barely even a conversation, Dan,” he lies. He can’t go through the entire ordeal with Danny of all people. He can’t explain why he turned down the job—and only partly because he doesn’t entirely know. Or he knows, but he doesn’t _know._ Can’t explain it. He needs more Jäger.

“Okay,” Dan says, but the word hangs in the air like a question. He has a way of doing that. It drives Casey absolutely insane—it’s like Dan just _knows_ , all the time. When Casey’s lying, when Casey’s holding back. When things aren’t right. Like now.

“This is what I want to be doing,” Casey says, placating.

“You could do a better job at showing it is all I’m saying,” Dan says, gesturing for more Jäger.

Casey folds his arms on the bar, hunching forward. The thing is, this is what he wants to be doing. Because sports is what he wants to be doing. And…well. Yes, sometimes Dan’s way of _just knowing_ is infuriating, but most of the time it’s…not. At all. Most of the time it’s refreshing. It’s been a long time since someone looked at him and just knew. He really _could_ do a better job at showing it.

“You’re right,” he says, throwing back his third shot.

Dan looks taken aback, but smiles all the same. “Damn right I am.”

“Okay,” Casey says, smiling and rapping on the bar with his fist. One more shot. They’re going to celebrate.

 

So they’ve celebrated. They’ve had a whole lot of Jäger—Casey maybe a bit more than Dan—and it’s around 3:30 in the morning, and Dan’s got an arm hovering behind him as they make their way into the lobby.

“We did it!” Casey calls.

“Case—” Dan grabs him around the waist as he sways on the spot.

Casey shakes him off. “Don’t stop me, Dan,” he says. “We made history tonight.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, trying to steer him towards the elevators. But Casey’s having none of it. Not now. Not when he’s feeling so powerful. Like he never fought with Lisa at all. Like he and Danny can take on the damn world.

“Let’s get you upstairs,” Danny says.

“What’s he that wishes so?” Casey responds, crossing to the middle of the lobby. “My cousin, Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin.”

“Come on, Case.” Dan follows him, grabs for his arm.

“If we are mark’d to die, we are enow to do our country loss,” Casey says, pulling his arm away in what he hopes is a graceful gesture. Now that he’s started, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t finish. “And if to live—”

“Oh, brother,” Dan mutters, looking around the room.

“The fewer men, the greater share of honour,” Casey soldiers on, gesturing between himself and Danny. He can feel the room turning to look at him, he can feel Dan’s embarrassment, but he doesn’t care. This is a performance. It’s his celebration. It’s his triumph. The words come out of him automatically, unforgotten from that brief spell in the Shakespeare society in college.

Danny is turning red, and as Casey speaks, he watches the flush creep over Dan’s skin. He watches Dan fidget. Because Dan—for as much as he loves being on television—isn’t so comfortable in front of people. But there’s a subtlety to the way he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down, a certain grace to his shame. Casey feels it in his stomach.

“He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,” Casey says, and by now he is performing to Dan, as if the rest of the lobby has faded away. “Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d, and rouse him at the name of Crispian.”

Dan looks up at him, meets his eyes, and through the flush, he’s grinning, he’s on the verge of laughter, and god Casey loves to see that look on his face. He feels good, and it’s not just the alcohol. It’s the show. It’s the snow. It’s Danny.

It’s Danny.

“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers,” Casey recites, eyes still on Dan’s. He suddenly wishes that line said something else, anything else but _band of brothers._ Anything more…soldierly and intimate. But alas, Shakespeare doesn’t bend to his wishes. So he just keeps reciting the brotherly images. He just keeps reciting, watching Danny blush and grin and fidget. He can still taste the Jäger on his tongue, `and he can’t help but think about the taste, and what it does to him, and Danny standing there in front of him.

“…And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks,” he finishes, with a sweeping gesture of his arms. “That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s Day.”

“Don’t go holding your manhood down here,” Dan says, his eyes warm, bringing his hands up to Casey’s arms and guiding him to the elevator. Casey lets himself be guided this time—he’s said his piece.

He hears someone clap as they cross the room. He looks up to see the woman at the front desk smiling with glazed-over eyes, and nods a thank-you. Dan presses the button for the elevator.

Suddenly, standing is too much, and Casey lurches into the wall. Danny grabs him just in time to keep his head from smacking, but he still grunts, the impact knocking the wind out of him.

“Easy there, partner,” Dan says, a hand resting on Casey’s chest to keep him from falling again. His hand is warm and solid.

“Danny,” Casey mutters. “We’re on television.”

Dan smiles widely, and Casey feels something in his chest—a warmth spreading like Danny’s grin across his face.

“Yeah, Case,” Dan says. The elevator dings. “We are.”

The doors slide open, and Dan maneuvers Casey into the elevator. Dan is close to him, so close that Casey can smell the Jäger on his breath, and feel the warmth radiating off of him. And it’s…something. It goes straight to Casey’s head, and he sways again. Danny leans in to balance him, and Casey leans back, and _God_ , Danny’s arms are so much more toned than he ever would have imagined, under the rough wool of his black sweater.

“You okay, Case?” Dan asks.

Casey opens his mouth to answer, but something catches in his throat and he just looks at Dan instead. The elevator dings again. They’ve reached their floor.

Casey leans on Dan the whole way back to their room. One day, he thinks, when they’ve gone national, they’ll be treated to two rooms. There’s a little bit of a pang in his stomach at the thought.

“Casey, you’re going to have to let me open the door,” Dan says, and Casey finds that he doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to stop touching Dan. Ever.

But he shifts his weight so that Dan can maneuver, and the door swings open, and Dan all but drags him through it, and as it swings shut behind them, Casey finds himself spinning around and pushing Danny against it.

“Casey,” Dan says, in a voice different than his usual one, but Casey’s head is swimming with Jagër and Shakespeare and shot sheets and snow, and Dan’s lips are so _pink_. Casey can’t help it anymore. They’re looking at each other one second, Danny’s eyes dark and probing in that Danny way, and the next second, Casey’s kissing him with everything he has in him, with everything that’s been stirring in him for years, everything that’s been unfulfilled.

And there’s a moment, a moment where he’s kissing Danny but Danny’s not kissing him, and he’s sure that Danny _won’t_ , that he’s ruined this for good. Because there’s no going back from this, is there, there’s always something there, Danny will never be comfortable with him again.

And then. And _then_. And then Danny’s hands are grasping his arms and he’s kissing him back and he tastes like Jägermeister and mints from the lobby, and Casey’s staggering backwards as Dan engages. They’re collapsing on the bed—Casey doesn’t even know whose bed it is, but they’re on it, and there’s no going back from this either, but Casey doesn’t want to.

    


The cab ride to the airport is mostly quiet. Dan looks disturbingly unbothered—as if this is something that happens to him all the time. Well. Casey assumes it’s…something that happens to him a lot. At least it sure seemed that way. But it’s not as if it’s something that’s ever happened between _them._ It’s not as if it wasn’t a game-changer. Right?

But Dan greeted him with a “good morning” when he woke up, and chatted lightly about the Vikings over breakfast as if all they did last night after the broadcast was down some Jagermeister and go to sleep. He’s even been brainstorming potential segments in the cab, although he stopped that a couple minutes ago, probably because Casey wasn’t giving him the most eloquent responses. He can’t help it. This is _weird._

But he sits there anyway, quietly, not saying anything. If Danny’s going to ignore it, then shouldn’t he? After all, he’s the one who’s married. He’s the one who really shouldn’t have done that. And he’s the one who instigated it. They’ll talk about it when Danny brings it up. That’s the right thing to do, Casey thinks, to let Danny bring it up.

But Dan doesn’t say a word about it, not for the entire cab ride, not on the walk through the airport to their gate, and not once they’re sitting in hard airport chairs waiting for their flight to board. In fact, all Dan does is tease Casey for getting them there so early—as if being prepared were something to be mocked.

But aside from that, they sit there in silence. And Casey can’t wait any longer for Dan to bring it up.

“So Danny, we’re not gonna talk about last night?” he finally asks.

Dan looks up from the book he’s opened in his lap, and meets Casey’s eyes. They look at each other for several seconds, a Mexican standoff, and then Dan exhales and cracks a half-smile.

“I’ll talk,” he says, his voice only bitter around the edges. “What do you wanna talk about? Your fixation on the St. Crispin’s Day speech?”

“Danny—” Casey starts, but Danny powers through.

“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers—”

“Danny.” Casey wants Dan to be serious—to talk with him. They have to talk about it. If they don’t, it’ll just always _be there._ A thing. If they at least get it out in the open, maybe…maybe…well, Casey doesn’t entirely know. But he knows they can’t ignore it.

“Come on, Case,” Danny’s saying, his voice sounding disturbingly casual. “You had a lot to drink, let’s not—”

“You’re acting like it’s nothing!” Casey spits out.

“You’re saying it’s something?” Dan asks, much quieter than Casey, but not as measured as before.

“I…” Casey falters. Because it _was_ something. It absolutely was something. But he knows what Danny means. He knows what Danny’s asking. And he doesn’t have an answer.

“Yep,” Danny says. He sounds…resigned.

“Lisa…” Casey says. Because that’s all he has. He’s married. That’s still there, that’s always there. And Danny knows.

“We come back to Lisa.” Dan says it dryly, like it’s just a given.

“Danny—”

“What?” Dan interrupts him.

“Don’t do that,” Casey says. He doesn’t like the way Dan is painting this. “Don’t make me out to be some philandering—”

“Hey, if the shoe fits, dude.”

Casey takes a deep breath. Dan is going for his gut now, and he isn’t going to pretend like he doesn’t deserve it, but…he wants Danny to understand. It’s usually easier than this.

“That’s not what this is,” he says quietly.

“No, that’s exactly what this is,” Dan counters immediately, like he was prepared.  

“Danny—”

“No, maybe you want to operate under some kind of _men don’t count_ policy,” Dan says, still not loud but with a brand new edge to it. Casey winces. “But don’t expect me to indulge you in that fantasy, pal.”

“You were certainly okay with indulging me last night.” Casey can’t help himself from saying it, and when he does, Dan’s face snaps up, his mouth set in a hard line, and his eyes bright.

“What do you want from me, Casey?” he asks, his voice cracking just a little, disarming Casey.

“What?” he asks.

“What do you _want_?” Dan asks again. “You jump me, drunk on Jäger, and seeming to know exactly what you’re doing, and expect me to what—ward you off?”

Casey should be able to take this. It’s all fair. He knows it’s all fair. But it wasn’t like he had _planned_ this. For the most part. It had just happened, and he had wanted it to, and he had thought Danny wanted it too.

“I’m the one with the unrequited love thing going!” Danny continues. “You’re the one who’s married. What, you expect me to forget that and make you breakfast in bed?”

“Then be mad!” Casey says, his voice a little louder than it should be. “Be mad at me all you want, Danny, but don’t pretend like nothing happened!”

“I’m sorry,” Dan says sarcastically. “Did you not get _mad_ from what I’m doing right now?”

“Yeah, now that I’ve pushed it,” Casey snaps back.

“Again, what do you _want_ from me, Casey?” Dan asks. “I thought ignoring it would keep things between us the same. What are you hoping to get out of this?”

“I just…” Casey trails off. Because he doesn’t know what to tell Dan. He can’t change anything. “…want to talk,” he finishes lamely.

“Well it’s a little late for just _talk_ , Case,” Danny says, and there’s not even a pretense of keeping his voice measured anymore. “We slept together last night. You’re not planning on leaving Lisa, are you?”

Casey winces again. “With Lisa, it’s…” he starts.

“Then what’s the point in talking about it?” Dan snaps.

Casey looks at Dan for a few seconds, but doesn’t say anything. Danny’s right. All he’s done is make this worse. He looks down at his shoes. Maybe that’s the end of the conversation. It probably should be.

“You hate her, Case,” Danny says quietly. “And she hates you.”

“Stop,” Casey says, firmly. Because this, he doesn’t want to do. He doesn’t want to get into.

“She does,” Dan says. “It’s been this way for years. She’s bitter and angry and she won’t—”

“Don’t talk about my marriage, Dan,” Casey snaps.

Dan glares at him for a moment. “Of course,” he says. “Wouldn’t want to do anything untoward.”

“Danny.” Casey doesn’t know what he should say here. He can’t apologize. He can’t make any promises. He can’t make things better for Danny. He looks down at his shoes again. His eyes blur a little, and he blinks against it.

It’s not like he set out to hurt anyone. But now he’s hurt…well, everyone. He hurt Danny, and himself, and while he hasn’t hurt Lisa yet, he can’t imagine going home to her and things being the same. He can’t imagine going home to her and not thinking about Danny’s hands, and Danny’s mouth, and _Danny_. He really really fucked up this time. He’s never drinking Jägermeister again.

He feels a hand on his arm and looks up.

“I’m sorry, Case,” Dan says. “That was out of line.”

Casey smirks, with effort. “Must have been that _unrequited love thing_ talking,” he says, trying to play it off, but…did Dan mean…it doesn’t matter.

“Casey.”

He swallows. “I’m sorry too,” he says. “Look. You were right about not talking about it. Let’s drop it.”

“It’s dropped,” Dan responds.

“Good.”

Casey’s never going to get an answer on that one, and it’s really not worth it anyway. Not after all of this.

“You won’t find me picking it back up, because it’s dropped,” Danny says, his voice a degree or two lighter.

“Thank you.”

Dan meets his eyes for just a moment before opening his book again. Casey pulls a legal pad out of his carry-on and pretends to start jotting down ideas for tonight’s show. But nothing comes out. He can’t stop thinking about…everything. Lisa, and Charlie, and going home to his family like nothing has changed, and having to face her anger about Late Night that he’s all but forgotten up until this moment. And having Danny over for dinner, and doing the show with Danny, and the exact shape of Danny’s ribcage.

He puts the legal pad back and leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. As if that will help.

“You’re not happy with her, Case.”

Casey takes a deep breath. Danny just _knows_ again, and it’s too much for Danny to know. It’s not Danny’s business. At least not anymore.

“Danny, do me a favor,” he says, finally opening his eyes

“What?”

“Can you just…not talk about me and Lisa? Ever? You’re not—” he cuts himself off before he has time to add the word _wrong._ “It’s not you, it’s just…”

“Yeah,” Dan says, meeting his eyes.

“Yeah?” Casey asks weakly.

“I got it, Case,” Dan says. “I’ll keep my mouth shut about Lisa.”

Casey nods, and leans back in his chair again. Only forty minutes to boarding, two hours to home, and a lifetime to try and forget the taste of Jäger on Dan Rydell’s lips.

 


End file.
